


Step Into It

by JehanFerres



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: and that is what it is, this is also called the transgirl pavi saga, transgirl Pavi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanFerres/pseuds/JehanFerres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This wasn’t right. (It was really.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Step Into It

**Author's Note:**

> I really don't want to offend anyone with this so please, please, please tell me if there's anything that I've done wrong or that offends you in any way and I'll fix it as best I can I promise.

This wasn’t right.

There were, Pavi knew, many things that were not right and that he, the former heir to the greatest company on the planet. And he was only the former heir because his sister had inherited it, but at least he’d got a new face out of it. A beautiful face that one was; despite his face-switching habits, Amber’s face was the one Pavi had stuck with the longest, and he was eternally grateful to his brother, even if Luigi had murdered the top three bidders so that Pavi could get Amber’s face. “Have this and git out, you pathetic faggot,” was the last thing Luigi had said to Pavi before he shut himself in his room and refused to come out.

Then again, at the moment Luigi was in a bad way; he was fragile and upset after their father’s death, inexplicable though that was - Pavi had never much liked the late “great” Mr. Largo - this was because, the way Luigi had put it, nobody expect for him was allowed to mess wth the younger Largos.

And oh boy, did Rotti Largo mess with his children.

Almost compulsively, in fact.

He was, Pavi was convinced, actually messing with them from beyond the grave - the reason for Pavi currently hiding out in the bathroom wearing… well, that could come later… was that Luigi was pacing up and down in his room yelling insults at their father. Pavi was fairly certain that his older brother had actually been hitting his head against the wall, and, despite being slightly unsure about whether Luigi should be left alone in his state, Pavi had gathered some things and slunk off to the bathroom.

The dresses which Blind Mag had owned had originally been meant to go to Amber, as she was GeneCo’s heir, but they had gone straight into the bin (aside from one, which was rather skimpy but that Amber had always had her eyes on, probably because it was relatively easy for her Grave-scrounging drug dealer to rip off). Pavi, however, had rescued them. He had explained it to Luigi as them being things of beauty, because they really were; beautiful creations of taffeta and silk and satin and velvet.

In fact, he liked them to the point that he was presently wearing one of them.

For, you see, that was the problem. In every way, Pavi was female.

Aside from the obvious - physically, she was male, but mentally she was female.

And, really, that was bad. That was bad and it wasn’t right. Right from when he was seven… when he had started feeling like this… his father had told him - “Women are inferior, Paviche. Women are inferior, and any woman or any man who acts like a woman is less than the dirt under your feet.” And, of course, Pavi had always believed the lies her father was peddling. She thought, in every way, that it was true, because it was what she was, and-

And somebody was outside the door.

Shit.

Shit.

No, calm down. It’ll be Amber. She’ll be too high on Zydrate to know that anything’s amiss. Breathe. It’s okay, she told himself.

“Open this FUCKING door before I break it down with my own FUCKING hands you useless effeminate piece of SHIT!”

Okay, that wasn’t Amber.

Still, the same thing applied. Luigi was off his head with grief over a misogynistic old fuck who had been their father; he wouldn’t have noticed anything. Hell, he would probably be quicker to notice that Pavi currently wasn’t wearing a face than the fact that she was wearing a dress because fuck that Pavi just does weird things don’t fucking question that shit, Pavi told herself in a poor imitation of Luigi’s voice as she unlocked and opened the door, attempting to shift out of the way so that Luigi could stomp around in peace, but before she could Luigi grabbed her shoulders and pinned her against the wall.

“Paviche Largo what in the name of all that is fucking holy are you fucking doing wearing a fucking DRESS you pathetic little faggot?” Luigi snapping, slamming one hand against the wall of the bathroom and pressing the other against his sister’s throat. Given that this happened painfully often (case in point: the incident in the stockroom), Pavi probably shouldn’t have been as worried as she was, but that combined with the stress of her father dying and Luigi going even further off the deep end than he had been before - which, by the way, was pretty far, it only took a few seconds before she was hyperventilating.

Evidently this shocked Luigi, as he quickly dropped Pavi - she sunk down onto the ground, still gasping for air, her knees up against her chest and her hands over her eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Pavi. Jesus fucking Christ!”

Luigi had crouched down in front of her, seeming, for once in his God-damn life, to be unsure of whether to touch his sister or leave her alone, one hand currently hovering just near her shoulder and the other braced on the floor. “Jus’ breathe. Okay,” Luigi said gently. Pavi nodded, her head falling forward. In the two months since her father’s death, she had not cut her hair once; it had grown past its usual messy shoulder-length, and was almost the length of her collarbones, because God her hair grew fast. “So. W’as wit’ the dress?” Luigi asked.

Pavi sighed. “I’m a… a girl.”

Luigi just looked confused at this, but motioned for Pavi to continue. “I was born-a in the wrong body,” she continued. Luigi’s brow furrowed at this and he got up, helping Pavi to her feet as he did so.

“I don’t fuckin’ understand you sometimes, sis,” he said as he turned to leave. “You could at least get a dress that fits you.” As he slammed the door (despite the expensive fittings of the house, it still rattled ominously in its hinges), Pavi smiled, for what felt like the first time since her father had died.


End file.
